Defective Design—Part 1

Evolution has been a disputed theory, ever since Darwin so eloquently described it, over 150 years ago. Most of the controversy and resistance to the concept of evolution has been led by adherents of Christian fundamentalism. The core cause of that Christian opposition has stemmed from the fact that evolution presents an explanation that contradicts a literal interpretation of the Bible's Book of Genesis—that the world was created by the monotheistic God as a perfect and final design… that is, by an “Intelligent Design."

I won't go into a justification of the theory of evolution here—it has been verified countless times by strong scientific evidence. But I wish to address one specific fallacy of the intelligent design idea that I believe adds to undermining it... the fact that there are several examples in nature of not intelligent design but, in fact, defective design. The operation of the human body is an excellent example. If, as Christianity declares, humans are made in the image of God, then shouldn't we humans represent the epitome of intelligent design? In fact, however, our bodies exhibit several defective behaviors, of which I will describe two.

Before launching into these flaws, I want to make it clear that evolution has no plan. There is no goal or end product of evolution. One can easily come to feel that the beauty, elegance, and balance of the natural world was brought about by a super-intelligent, guiding hand. How could our world be so wonderful, without that intentional design? Evolutionary science has irrefutably demonstrated what the actual process is—one that slowly builds, step-by-step, on a series of in-the-moment choices. It just happens on its own. 

Here is how it goes: mutations—in the form of genetic variations—constantly occur and are then passed on to the next generation. Those new variations then find themselves in competition with preexisting forms. The winner survives and procreates, sending its genes into the future. The loser will not get a chance to procreate and will go extinct. Thus a minutely-improved version comes into being. Very soon there will be another tiny mutation—favorable or not—and if favorable, it will add its tiny, improved modification to the organism.  Gradually, this is how all the millions of species on planet Earth came to be in their current form... beautiful and elegant. And all creatures will continue to evolve—slowly but inexorably bringing about new and varied life forms.

One key aspect of how this process works, however, is that there is no backing up—there is no chance to correct any potentially flawed changes that are made along the way… flaws that at the time are of no consequence. At each tiny step of the process a winner is declared, as the fittest critter survives and multiplies. The winner need not be perfect; just a minuscule bit better than the last.

So sometimes a mutation occurs, and because it is a momentary improvement, it gets built into an organism. It may later prove to have not been the best long-term change, but that less-than-perfect initial change is now a permanent aspect of the organism, which must be dealt with as best it can. Now let me describe those two flaws of the human organism that got built in that I mentioned above. Because they cannot be removed, we have to deal with their defective behaviors.

Two examples of human defective design, next time…

Change Blindness—Part 1

The 19^th century saw a major shift in how humans viewed their planet and our place on it. That shift stemmed from the many scientific discoveries that were rapidly occurring at the time, as Western science began to blossom. Prior to this time, science and religion were mostly in harmony; with a few exceptions such as Galileo, when the Roman Catholic Church found him guilty of the heresy that proclaimed a helio-centric universe (rather than Earth-centered) and confined him to house arrest. 

The majority of scientists in those times held beliefs that did not conflict with the churches' teachings, since the view of most people was that the world indeed had been created by God, as the Bible describes. What's more, that world was perfect and unchanging. Most scientists—many of whom were also clergy—were convinced that the world would continue to be very much as it was at the time.

Human understanding of the cosmos then was quite limited—especially as to its age. Some had suspicions that Earth was maybe a few million years old, but nothing like over four billion years old. They also had no idea that the planet had settled into a benevolent climate in the last 12,000 years or so, and had often been inhospitable, prior to that time. Humans had had but the tiniest slice of the historical record to interpret the world's nature, with no understanding of how historically unrepresentative that slice was.

Then Charles Darwin published his bombshell treatise on evolution and natural selection in 1859. His book shook both the scientific and religious communities, by starkly refuting both of their belief systems. Darwin showed that nature was not immutable, but had been in a state of metamorphosis for a long time—and was continuing to transform. He demonstrated that all life, as well as the climate, had once been very different from what they saw in the mid-1800s. 

Completely aside from the fact that many people's belief in God was challenged by these statements of Darwin, it was the evidence of nature's mutability that rattled many believers. How could God's creation not be perfect and changeless? Was God not perfect? Some even questioned, did God exist? The church fathers (and they were exclusively men) felt threatened. They dug in their heels and ferociously defended their erroneous beliefs. They set up an opposition that continues today among religious fundamentalists.

It should be emphasized that most religious leaders today have accepted the theory of evolution and its implications for change. Furthermore, science's understanding of the natural world now is far greater than in Darwin's time. We now are very confident of the age of the Earth and its past geological eras.

Yet today we are once again experiencing another battle between science and a powerful group that puts doubts in the minds of the populace; this time it’s made up of industrial and corporate moguls, political leaders, and fundamentalist religious clerics. 

Contemporary science has offered irrefutable evidence that Earth's climate is once again experiencing another change—definitely one for the worse. Our climate is becoming dangerously warmer and will become periodically more menacing. Why are so many people complacent or in denial of the truth? We no longer can hide behind the ignorance of 19^th century knowledge. We know it's coming, and yet we dither. 

More change blindness next time…

Untiring Attention

Many years ago I discovered the French naturalist Henri Fabre, who, in the latter half of the 19^th century painstakingly and relentlessly studied insects and wrote about them. Charles Darwin paid tribute to Fabre and his many contributions to the science of entomology. Fabre spent countless hours on his knees studying many kinds of bugs and recording his observations. Those observations are often delightful to read.

There are two contrasting types of scientists who devote their lives to the natural world. The first type is usually formally educated, takes a position on the staff of an institution of higher education, and writes academic papers in his chosen field. The second type is often not formally educated, may have no academic employment, and devotes most of his time to field observation.

Of the first type, we have as examples such eminent individuals as Isaac Newton, Albert Einstein, and E.O. Wilson. Three examples of the second type are John Muir, Charles Darwin, and Fabre. The third individual in each case focused their work on insects.

Both Wilson and Fabre are people for whom I have enormous admiration, and have learned much from each of their studies and writings. I think what especially elicits my appreciation for the kind of naturalist that Fabre was, is the deep devotion and untiring attention he put to his work. In fact, what he accomplished should not really be described as work, but as passion. What drove him on (as well as Darwin and Muir) was not the desire to hold an esteemed academic position, or publish papers, but simply the urge to discover nature's ways. They were not driven to publish, but to watch.

I do not wish in any way to disparage the college professor who spends the majority of her time on campus, teaching, or writing papers. Science has benefited greatly from the work of academics. College professors often collaborate with fellow academics and form teams that tackle problems that individuals can't. College professors also have access to expensive resources—such as supercomputers and complex experimental machinery—that individuals don't. So they make invaluable contributions to knowledge.

An individual investigator like Fabre, Muir, and Darwin has his own advantage: freedom from academic dogma and institutional thinking. They can follow their own intuition. They are often obsessive people who are untiring in their attention—with a singular devotion to pursue their zeal to their heart's content. Darwin's extraordinary insights into evolution came after decades of dogged pursuit. Muir's advocacy for the need to protect nature's beautiful places followed decades of courageous and dangerous travels through the wilderness. Fabre's delightful discoveries came after decades of squinting at tiny bugs and getting sore knees.

I value both kinds of scientist—the academic and the field naturalist. Indeed, some scientists are both kinds. Maybe I lean a little bit toward the loners like Fabre because, living as a hermit, I treasure solitude. Besides, curious people like him inspire my own investigations in my own corner of the wilderness.

Capitalism and Evolution: Alike? (Part 2)

Last time we looked at a few similarities between evolution and capitalism that are regarded by some people as evidence that capitalism is the best economic way to go. But there are some key differences between them that we might also consider, to be more thorough in our examination. One big difference is how waste is handled. Nature recycles. One species' detritus becomes another's valuable resource. Decaying dead bodies are sustenance for many kinds of critters—even excrement is valued. Capitalist economies, however, create garbage that no creature wants. Moreover, it's often very toxic. Exhausted electronic devices become hazardous trash. Abandoned industrial sites pollute the environment.

Another difference is that capitalism is usually a zero-sum game: somebody wins only when somebody loses. This is a necessary result of economic competition for finite resources. Since capitalism does not recycle much at all, the resources it uses are limited. In contrast, nature often plays a nonzero-sum game, if, for no other reason than that it recycles. One species' waste, if it does well, provides even more resources for other species. They both do well.

Cooperation can also often be found buried deeply within nature's competitive process. Two complementary species, who, at first glance are seemingly in competition, can find themselves mutually beneficial to one another in the long run. A lean-and-mean corporation, however, is rarely concerned with anything beyond its immediate sphere of influence.

The various kinds of interactions between nature's many species also leads to another significant difference between evolution and capitalism: Evolution breeds diversity. A rich and healthy ecosystem is populated by a wide variety of interconnected species. Mother Nature tends to seek a sustainable balance in an ecosystem that finds a large number of plants and animals working together in a complex, symbiotic manner. As capitalism grows, however, the number of players dwindles. Monopolies emerge and grow ever larger—think Walmart or Microsoft. Since a monopoly can afford to be abusive (it has few effective checks and balances), it tends to care little for anything other than its quarterly economic bottom line.

It's interesting that scientists have come to see evolution as a “blind” process. That is, it has no intent, no design, and yet it has brought about a beautiful, complex, and effective process that has done extremely well for billions of years. In contrast, capitalism is very intentional and has a narrow and specific goal: maximization of profit. It works well in the short term (creating that quarterly profit), but often is not sustainable over the long run. Otherwise, would we pollute the planet as we do, or be causing the climate change we are? Greed—an inevitable part of capitalism—does not seem to play much of a role in evolution's game.

So, yes, capitalism and evolution do share some qualities... competition being the obvious one. “Survival of the fittest” plays a role in each system. It's useful to note, however, that Darwin, in presenting his elegant theory, never used the term “survival of the fittest.” He was really interested in the “natural selection” process of evolution, and realized that it is the cornerstone of nature's elegant and sustainable way. He also saw that nature's competition eventually even brought about cooperation.

And that factor of sustainability is crucial: evolution has worked beautifully for a few billion years now. Capitalism is an upstart that's been around for only a couple of hundred years. How much longer will it last?

Capitalism and Evolution: Alike? (Part 1)

Charles Darwin realized over 150 years ago that competition is the driving force behind evolution: similar species compete for limited resources and will duke it out until the “fittest” begins to dominate, while the less-fit may eventually become extinct. The process usually occurs when one species is better able to adapt to a particular environmental niche than another. The more-adaptable species will be more successful at reproduction and its offspring will dominate.

Most people in the business world see a similar situation playing out in a capitalist economy: competition between organizations or corporations winnows out the less-well functioning ones, leaving the successful ones to dominate. Similar to critters, corporations also compete for limited resources, with the “fittest” surviving, while the less-fit ones die off (or are bought up... a form of consumption?). In each case the argument is often made: leave the market or the natural world alone; this allows the competitive process to create an efficient and well-oiled world. The markets and nature will become well-tuned and balanced, if we don't mess with them. Just look at how splendidly nature has evolved! Capitalism, it is argued, is simply using the same principles as nature to become the most successful economic system, to the benefit of all.

So both nature and the marketplace operate in an atmosphere of competition, wherein limited resources promote rivalry. Here's another similarity: from time to time there is a variation introduced into the situation by one of the competitors—maybe a new marketing idea in a corporation or a genetic mutation in a plant or animal. If the idea or mutation is more suitable to the existing environment, those who posses it will do better. The modified corporation or critter can more effectively fill a niche. A similar situation occurs if the environment should change and one corporation or species is better able to adapt to that change.

I think we might take a closer look at the comparison between capitalism and evolution, however. How similar are they, really? Is the argument that capitalism is best—because it resembles evolution—a good argument? The resemblances described above may indeed seem to provide for some people a good argument to conclude that capitalism is the best economic system; and it indeed is the dominant one today. Mother Nature has done very well for billions of years with evolution, so maybe humans have come upon a similarly excellent system to govern their economy? There are a few significant differences to consider, however, before concluding that capitalism is so ideal. Let's look at some of them next time...

Darwin's Battle--Part 2

Darwin gathered an immense amount of material during his trip. Back home in England, his probing mind drew him evermore deeply into the mystery. He gradually developed (over 20 years) his theory of evolution—although he did not use the term “evolution.” He preferred to describe it as the “origin of species by natural selection.” He was not introducing evolution to the world—which had much earlier been proposed—as a means by which species originate. What he did introduce was a concept that came into direct conflict with established religion.

Darwin was saying that nature selected which changes will survive and which will perish. When those spontaneous changes are passed on from parent to child and grow over time to create new kinds of critters, a new species is born. God had not laid out every tiny and final detail; instead, Mother Nature has decided as she went along, and is continuing to decide. In other words, God is not a micro-manager; the task is accomplished by the natural world, which has an unsettling way of operating in a seemingly random or even mindless manner. The problem many people had was accepting that this seemingly haphazard process could have led to such an intelligent result.

He couldn’t have published his book at a worse time or place than England in 1859. The advanced scientific community was already beginning to find itself engaged in a growing struggle with the Anglican Church. Most of the “scientific” studies of the natural world in Darwin’s time, however, were being conducted by parish priests. They had the time between Sundays to study bugs and animals and trees and to ensure that their findings were disseminated in accordance with the church’s philosophy. England was definitely a God-fearing country.

Another dogmatic belief that English society had adopted was the pastoral viewpoint that, not only was nature fixed and final, but that it exhibited evidence of God’s peaceful Earth—wherein the lion reclines with the lamb and all critters are benign comrades. The English pastoral garden scene (long before having been rid of any big carnivores) was envisioned to be, like the scene on Noah’s Ark, one in which all creatures got along in polite fashion.

Darwin’s insight shattered both of these perceptions. Not only was the natural world’s progression wrenched from the purview of God, but natural selection was far from a peaceful process. He found the so-called Peaceful Kingdom to be a battleground, wherein competing species were “red in tooth and claw.” Constant killings occurred; often brutal and without compassion.

These two findings were a hard sell to English society. Organized religion—already beginning to feel suspicious about science—resisted these radical ideas, and fought back. The struggle continues 150 years later. It’s not that Darwin’s conception was all that radical, as much as that it shattered the dogmas of a fixed, pleasant world. It was the rigid viewpoint of the religious establishment that was being challenged. And that establishment did not release its grip without a fight.

It is sad that so many people today—mostly because of fundamentalist religious interpretations—continue to oppose evolution. Of course, most spiritually and religiously mature people are completely acceptable of evolution… it’s the close-minded, literalist faction that insists on the old perception.

Evolution is an elegant and beautiful process. It is one that a truly wise designer God would have set up, and then sat back and watched the show. The process envisioned by Darwin is far more intelligent than any so-called “intelligent design.” It does not exclude the divine; it only relieves the divine from and endless process of micro-managing.

Darwin's Battle--Part 1

 

In his early twenties, when he was still trying to decide what he wanted to be when he grew up, Charles Darwin latched onto a future-altering job as naturalist aboard the English research vessel HMS Beagle. His task was to collect specimens during the ship’s voyage around the Americas and return them to England for examination by the country’s scientists. The goal was to add to the burgeoning knowledge of the natural world that his Victorian homeland was gathering.

For five years, young Charlie dutifully collected thousands of samples of animals, plants, and rocks. As he became absorbed in his activities, his inquiring mind began to probe evermore deeply into nature’s wonders, wonders that he was thrilled to be seeing first hand. He gradually came to understand that the English worldview that he’d inherited had some significant flaws; a worldview that had entangled its Victorian Christian beliefs with a growing body of scientific findings. Those who had constructed this worldview had not yet experienced any internal conflict between the prevailing religious and scientific beliefs; but that struggle was just over the horizon.

The English—who were then at the forefront of the natural sciences—were confident that the magnificently complex world that they were studying had been created as is, by the deity. The natural world was viewed as an intricate, peaceful, and beautiful creation that had been exquisitely fashioned; every creature and every plant just so, in a perfectly-meshed jigsaw puzzle. It simply remained for humans to discover how the puzzle had been assembled. Like the heavens above, they believed it was a grand plan that was flawless and enduring. Set in place by the Christian God, the world was so perfect that it never needed to change. It was this perspective that allowed them to blend science and religion, and not see the many dichotomies.

Charlie was very accepting of the English worldview when he shipped out on the Beagle. There was no internal conflict within him. He had recently enrolled in seminary and was being urged by his father to become an Anglican pastor. He was simply hoping to delay his lifelong assignment to some staid countryside parish, by grabbing a thrilling chance to see the world. He returned from the voyage with a transformed viewpoint and a passion for what he really wanted to do with his life: continue to pursue his studies of nature, rather than tend to the souls of parishioners.

He had experienced several revelations on his five-year odyssey: the main one being that the world was not fixed and unchanging. He saw many examples of nature having transformed from some earlier manifestation into what he was observing during his trip. For example, in Argentina he found fossil bones from what appeared to be several long-dead species of gigantic creatures. He knew there were much smaller living animals of almost identical species, which were roaming about the land. They must be related, he realized; yet the fossils provided evidence of extinct species—something long gone. Wasn’t this a case of nature having evolved over time—rather than having been created once, never to change?

More on Darwin’s battle next time…